


And the Mountains Said I Could Find You Here

by coffeejunkii



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Cuddling & Snuggling, Happy Ending, Inventive Use of Closets, M/M, Protective Phil Coulson, laundry shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 17:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20511071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeejunkii/pseuds/coffeejunkii
Summary: On a rainy fall evening, Phil asks to crash in Clint's room for the night. Which shouldn't be a big deal, but is the exact request Clint has been dreading since they started dating.





	And the Mountains Said I Could Find You Here

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to RurouniHime and Ralkana for reading and cheering me on!
> 
> Title is from "Your Rocky Spine" by Great Lake Swimmers.

“Clint?”

Clint blinks until Phil’s face comes into focus. “Hrrm?” 

“I think the library’s about to close.”

There’s a librarian very purposefully switching off the lamps on the next table over. Clint must have napped for a while. “Sorry, guess I was tired.” 

“I lost track of time, too.” Phil stands and starts packing up his laptop and notebooks. “Found a few new letters to look at.”

Phil’s researching the founding of the college, which is why they are camped out at the small manuscript archive all the way at the northern end of campus. “That’s…exciting?”

“It is!” Phil smiles. “How’s your essay?”

“Going fine.” Clint finished about an hour after they got there, hence the nap. He shoulders his backpack, which weighs about a ton.

“I’d love to read it once you’re done. If you don’t mind.” Phil actually sounds eager.

Clint wouldn’t have expected anyone to care about the use of longbows in the Battle of Flodden, but Phil is a history nerd and probably would enjoy this paper. “Sure, yeah.”

They make their way to the exit. The rain outside looks like a solid wall, and half the walkway has turned into a rivulet.

“Could we—“ Phil starts. “Do you think we could crash in your room tonight? Just this once? It would take me at least fifteen minutes to get to my dorm and honestly, I’d rather not get pneumonia from walking through ice-cold rain.”

“Umm.” It’s a perfectly reasonable request: Clint’s dorm is a quick dash across this quad, and Clint has stayed over in Phil’s room at least once a week since they got serious about two months ago. Phil’s dropped hints about wanting to see Clint’s room and it really shouldn’t be a big deal. And yet. 

“I mean, it’s fine if it’s not a good time,” Phil says. “I can call the shuttle, but at this time of night and with the rain, it would probably take at least half an hour to come here, and—”

“No, it’s cool, we can go to my, um, room.”

Phil gives Clint an earnest look. “We don’t have to if—if…”

Clint waves him off. “It’s fine. Seriously.” Phil would find out eventually, and it’s most likely okay because Phil is Phil and seems to be into Clint despite Clint’s, well, everything. But Clint has never had anyone over aside from Natasha.

Clint pushes open the door and sets off at a brisk pace, glancing behind him to make sure Phil follows. 

It’s only a two-minute walk to Kearney Hall, and yet they’re soaked by the time Clint has swiped them inside. 

“Gross.” Clint is dripping from everywhere. He can’t wait to get out of these clothes.

Phil’s face suggests he feels the same way. “This jacket is supposed to be waterproof, but that was clearly a lie.” He looks around. “Which floor?”

Clint gestures at the door to his left. “This way.”

“I didn’t realize there were rooms in the basement.”

Clint shrugs and heads down the stairs, past the laundry room, and into the dingy lounge at the end of the hallway. 

Phil looks around the two sad couches, uneven coffee table, and tiny windows. 

“I’ll just, uhh. Just a sec.” Clint turns toward the double doors of the utility closet. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t touch that.” 

Clint smiles. That “Danger! High Voltage” sign is pretty intimidating. “It’s okay.” He digs the magnet out of his pocket and drags it along the closet door until he hears twin snicks. There’s a small indentation on the side of the door that his fingers find on the first try. He slides it open and hits the switch just inside. The warm glow of Christmas lights illuminates the space beyond. “This is it.”

Phil steps up next to him and peers into the closet.

Clint’s heart is doing double time and his fingers curl tight around the magnet. He knows it’s fucking weird to live in a closet, but he’s also proud of what he’s created here over the last two years, and if Phil doesn’t get it, then…then…

There’s a fond smile on Phil’s face. “Can I go in?”

“’Course, yeah, I mean, that’s why we’re here. Although, let’s ditch our coats and stuff first.” 

They peel out of their outer layers and shoes. 

“There’s some cardboard on your right as you go in if you want to bring in your backpack.” Clint is still a little nervous even though Phil seems fine with this situation.

Once they’re both in the closet, Clint slides the door closed and secures the bolts. “So, this is me.”

Phil looks around, and Clint tries to see the familiar space through his eyes. It’s a little cramped, but it’s not that much smaller than the smallest dorm room, as Clint discovered from the student housing website. Clint is proud that he managed to fit a folding desk and chair, a mini-fridge/microwave combo, and a mattress into the space. Plus all the shelving that he’s put up around the walls and the two sturdy beams above their heads that support some large plastic bins. 

“This is incredible,” Phil says as he slowly turns.

Clint doesn’t know what to do with that assessment. Phil lives in the really nice dorm in the center of campus, after all; the one with the new furniture and updated bathrooms and generous floor plans. Clint wouldn’t have been surprised if Phil had decided that the walk across campus wasn’t too long after all once he discovered Clint’s “room.”

“I mean that.” 

Phil steps into Clint’s field of vision and Clint slowly drags his eyes away from the floor. “Thanks,” he mumbles. 

Phil moves closer and half-reaches for Clint before stopping. Clint has his arms around Phil before he even realizes that he moved. He buries his face against Phil’s neck and holds on, relief rushing through him. Phil’s arms fold tightly around Clint.

“Is that why you always want us to hang out in my room?” Phil asks softly. “Because you live in a closet? Which, by the way, is ironic because you’re the least in-the-closet person I’ve ever met.”

“Maybe.” Clint smiles into Phil’s shoulder. “And I find that hard to believe, Mr. ‘I founded a GSA at my middle school when I was fourteen.’”

“It’s good to have goals.”

“Like making out with the captain of the football team on prom night.”

Phil draws back and rolls his eyes. “That was different, but also yes. I checked that off my list, too.”

Clint leans in for a kiss. “It’s super hot.”

Phil ignores the comment, but kisses back, and does that thing with his tongue that always makes Clint shiver down to his toes. Although in this instance, it might also be the clammy clothes. “This is awesome, but maybe we should put on something dry?”

Phil grimaces. “Right. That would be good.”

Clint pulls down one of the bins. “I can lend you something while we throw everything in the dryer.” He’s glad that he did laundry two days ago and actually has enough clean clothes for him and Phil. “Exactly how drenched are you?”

“Completely.” Phil’s cheeks go pink. “Not a dry fiber on me, I’m afraid.”

“No problem.” Clint busies himself with putting together a pair of boxers, his best socks, sweatpants, and a T-shirt. “Here.” As he holds out the clothes, he realizes that Phil needs to put on these clothes, which involves getting naked first, and even though they’ve been together for a while, being naked together hasn’t happened yet. “Uh, there’s actually a bathroom on the other side of the lounge, or I could turn around, or—”

“Bathroom would be great.”

“It looks run down, but I promise it’s clean.”

“Thanks.”

Once Phil is gone, Clint quickly strips off his clothes and stuffs them into a plastic bag. He changes into his pajamas because it’s not like he’s going outside again today. 

Clint is getting quarters from his laundry jar when Phil returns. “You said something about a dryer?” 

“It’s just down the hall. Here.” He holds open the plastic bag so Phil can add his clothes. “Make yourself comfortable.”

As always, Clint cracks open the lounge door to make sure the hallway is clear. Living next to a nearly abandoned lounge means people get curious if they see you leave from there. There’s no one around, fortunately, and the laundry room is empty, too. Clint realizes he should have asked if any of Phil’s clothes can’t withstand the regular dryer temperatures, but figures it’s probably okay.

Phil sits on the bed when Clint comes back. He locks the closet door behind him. “Can I get you anything? I have water, and hot chocolate, and some herbal tea that Nat left last time she was here…”

Phil looks amused. “I’m good. No need to play host. It’s just me.”

Phil is never ‘just me’ to Clint, but Phil hasn’t figured that out yet. “Sorry, I never have anyone over, for obvious reasons, so I’m not sure how this goes.”

“Anyone aside from Natasha, I assume,” Phil observes. 

“Yeah, but that’s Nat, so. Doesn’t count.”

Phil knows everything about him and Nat, their entire complicated history, and how she’s the only family Clint has. It’s the first real thing Clint told Phil, mostly because Phil was under the misguided impression that he and Nat were dating.

“I know.” There’s warmth in that observation, as Phil does indeed know, and he gets it, which is no small thing. 

Clint sits down next to Phil. Phil bumps his shoulder against Clint’s. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Thanks for not freaking out about it.”

“Why would I freak out about it?”

Clint looks at him. “I literally live in a former utility closet.”

“So? It’s ingenious.”

Clint ducks his head. Phil sounds so sincere, like he really can’t see why that would be odd or weird or something that Clint doesn’t want anyone to know. He takes Phil’s hand because there are too many feelings swirling around in Clint’s brain.

“Do you want to tell me how you found this place?”

Clint nods. “Was a total accident. I actually lived in this dorm for real freshman year. I only had enough money from my scholarship and loans to get a room and the most limited meal plan, and…” This part is hard, even with Phil’s insight into Clint’s life. “Well, let’s just say, only getting one real meal a day is not ideal. Especially not for an athlete.”

“Didn’t you have some flex points for the campus store?”

“Do you know how much they charge for a box of cereal?”

“Good point.”

Clint knows Phil isn’t made of money, either, but he’s on a presidential scholarship that includes room and board, so he never had to think about food. “Nat used to sneak me food from the dining hall, but I couldn’t ask her to keep doing that, so I had to decide: do I want to eat or do I want a room? Then I remembered this empty closet down here and decided, hey, why not. Beats sleeping in my car.”

“You slept in your car?”

“Just a few weeks sophomore year. Campus police kept harassing me about it, and it sucked once it got colder. So I moved in here. At first I was paranoid about getting discovered, so I only had an air mattress and nothing else. But then I realized I had to commit to this and make it livable because there is nowhere else to go.”

“Has no one ever noticed?”

“Not really. I almost got busted last May by the D&D group that meets in the lounge Wednesday nights.” There’d been ten seconds of mutual staring because Clint came out of the bathroom in nothing aside from his boxers, but he’d made a quick exit and hid out on the roof. 

“Does the school think you live off-campus?”

“Nah, because I couldn’t get the meal plan if I did. Nat works in Student Housing, so she fudges my records. Makes it seem like I have a room and pay for it.” Phil is silent for long enough to make Clint antsy. “It’s not like I’m occupying a real room and not paying for it.” It comes out a little defensive.

“I agree. Sorry, I was thinking about—I meant what I said earlier, this is incredible—but you shouldn’t have to do this. There should be a way for you to get both room and board.”

“Yeah, well.” Clint is tempted to tack on a ‘not all of us can be on a cushy scholarship,’ but he doesn’t want to fight with Phil when Phil is a) right and b) upset on Clint’s behalf. 

“Change of topic?” Phil murmurs.

Clint shifts until he’s comfortably slouched against Phil’s side. “Yeah. Though I don’t mind if you want to ask more questions later.”

Phil wraps an arm around Clint’s back. “Thanks for telling me. I…no, nevermind.”

“What?”

There’s a hitch in Phil’s voice when he answers. “I really like you.”

Phil’s said that before, in just the same way, and it makes Clint feel a lot things. “Same.”

**

When Clint nods off for the third time while they’re watching _The Two Towers_, he concedes that he is exhausted. “Bed?” 

Phil gives him a puzzled look. Uh, right, they are technically already in bed. On the bed. Whatever. “I mean, sleep? I know it’s only a little after midnight, but I’m beat.”

“You’re doing extra shifts at the library, so you have every right to be tired.”

“Guess so.” The fees for the next archery tournament won’t pay themselves, and the money has to come from somewhere. Clint stands and stretches his hands over his head, feeling Phil’s eyes on him the entire time. “I have an extra tooth brush if you want?”

“I do, thanks.”

Clint has to go through three boxes to find said tooth brush. Maybe he needs a slightly better system of organization. “You can go ahead.”

Phil shoots him a look. “I’m sure that sink can accommodate two people at the same time.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” It probably means nothing to Phil, but this seems like a fairly intimate suggestion to Clint. Maybe because he essentially has his own bathroom.

They bump arms and hips a few times as they crowd around the sink, and Clint brushes his teeth way more thoroughly than he normally would. He feels oddly exposed, moreso than during a number of hook-ups he’s had over the years. 

When Phil pulls him in for a soft long kiss and mumbles something about “minty fresh” after, Clint is about ready to jump out of his skin with feelings. He manages a quick, “I’m gonna get the clothes from the dryer,” and flees.

In the laundry room, he leans against the wall and tries to squash his feelings into a manageable ball. Sure, he’s into Phil. But in moments like this, all the things he wants from and with Phil seem like a giant wave that’s going to sweep Clint up and crush him. It’s fucking scary. 

They’re only in college, after all, and Clint isn’t ready for—for falling this hard for a person. At first, it almost felt like a dare to get Phil to notice him, and Clint never expected Phil would be interested. Phil always seemed hot in that smart-reliable-great eyes-and-ass kind of way, but once they got to know each other, Phil also turned out to be incredibly kind and dorky. He also genuinely, deeply cares about Clint in a way few people have in Clint’s life. In moments like this, Clint wants to run away from what they have while also holding on to it as tight as he can.

Clint takes his time folding their clothes into neat squares and arranging them into a stack that stays upright in the plastic bag. The focus helps. Not as much as shooting the bow would have, but that isn’t an option.

When he gets back, Phil sits in bed with his glasses on, comforter tucked around him, and a book on his knees. All the feelings that Clint so carefully compartmentalized shake loose again.

He sets the bag down, locks the door, peels off his socks, and slides into bed. He can do this.

“Do you want to turn off the light?” Phil asks.

Clint nods. He waits until Phil has safely put away his book and glasses and then pulls the plug for the lights out of the extension cord. 

“Oh wow,” Phil says.

Clint looks up at the dozens of glow-in-the dark stars all over the walls. “It was so dark in here that it freaked me out, so I put them up.”

“It’s beautiful.” There’s that sincerity in Phil’s voice again.

Phil shimmies closer until he’s half-draped over Clint, who has never been more grateful that Phil is a secret cuddle monster. Holding Phil finally calms the storm of feelings inside of Clint; he floats on having Phil this close, in his bed, with the prospect of many more nights like this ahead.

**

Phil gets up in the middle of the night, rolling out of bed with an apologetic, “Go back to sleep.”

Clint dozes until Phil returns. The added warmth is most welcome; it can get chilly on fall nights, especially with cold air drifting through the closet vents. “Li’l spoon,” Clint requests. Phil folds himself around Clint from toes to shoulders and brushes his lips over Clint’s neck for the briefest of moments. 

**

Clint drifts out of sleep slowly. Phil’s still under, and Clint doesn’t want to wake him. One of the advantages of living in a closet is that no morning light can sneak through the blinds. Clint’s inner clock says that it is morning, probably on the early side. Besides, it’s Saturday, and there’s no reason to get up. 

Phil stirs a few minutes later. He rubs his cheek against Clint’s shoulder and yawns. “What time is it?”

“Haven’t checked.” He wants to add that it doesn’t matter, but Phil already rolls over to grab his phone. 

“7:22.”

“Ugh.” Clint knew it was still early. He gently pushes the phone out of Phil’s hand and finds that spot under his ear that’s sure to make Phil forget about emails and the news.

Phil sucks in a breath, but instead of pulling Clint closer, he turns away. “Give me one sec.” He gets up and grabs his toothbrush on the way out.

Clint flops on his back. He rather likes sleepy fumbly morning sex and had some hopes in that regard, but Phil is more the get-up-and-get-ready type. Clinging to his hope, Clint digs breath mints out of the shoebox next to the bed that also holds his just-in-case condoms and lube. He also plugs in the lights. If they’re getting up, he might as well, and if they don’t, then hey, he rather likes looking at Phil. 

It turns out that Phil has no plans to get started with their day because he gets right back into bed.

“Hey,” he says, one hand on Clint’s hip.

Clint takes this as invitation to reel Phil in and kiss him. They keep things unhurried until Clint rolls onto his back, dragging Phil with him. He hooks a leg around Phil to keep him close and groans when Phil settles his full weight on him. And then Phil rolls his hips. Even through two layers of clothes, Clint can feel how hard he is.

“Fuck, do that again.”

Phil does, and Clint hitches up his other leg, and off they go, heated kisses and a slightly uncoordinated push-and-pull that is heavenly for a few minutes until Clint realizes how close he is to coming in his pants—again—and really, he’s too old for that.

“Wait.” 

Phil blinks at him. Lust-hazed is a good look on him.

Clint grabs the edge of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head, and when he pushes at the edge of PJs, Phil gives him room to strip them off.

Phil looks and looks until Clint wants to squirm under the intense gaze. “You’re gorgeous,” Phil murmurs.

Clint doesn’t know what to do with that, or how to respond, but fortunately, Phil doesn’t seem to want a reply. With just the tips of his fingers, Phil traces a line over Clint’s collar bones and down his sternum, and further down over his stomach, always keeping his eyes on that delicate path.

Phil’s touch was so light that when he twists his palm around Clint’s cock in one firm stroke, Clint’s hips twitch off the mattress. “Fuck.”

“Too much?”

Clint shakes his head, so Phil does it again, and again, and holy shit, where did this come from all of a sudden?

Tension snakes through Clint’s gut way too quickly, and for the second time, Clint needs to put a stop to things. 

“What?” Phil asks, feigning innocence.

Clint smacks his shoulder. “You’re not playing fair.”

Phil laughs, but then his smile turns sweeter. He presses a soft kiss to Clint’s lips. “Just wanna make you feel good.”

This is unfair on a whole other level, and Clint is left without words. Again. He tugs at Phil’s shirt. “Take these off?”

“Sure.” Phil wiggles out of his clothes and drops them next to the bed.

Now it’s Clint’s turn to look and touch. He runs a hand down Phil’s side to his ass. He lingers there, thumb pushing into the dip at the bottom of Phil’s spine.

“What’s your favorite thing to do in bed?” Clint asks. 

“Lots of things. Most things? Yeah.” Phil’s usually better with words.

“I like getting fucked.” Clint prefers to be as direct as possible when it comes to sex. Anything else leads to you or your partner or both getting frustrated.

Phil swallows. “Yeah, that’s, yeah, I’m into that.”

“Getting fucked? Or doing the fucking?” Clint doesn’t want to put Phil on the spot, but he wants this out in the open.

“Both, if I’m honest.”

“Honest is good. What else?”

Phil looks off to the side.

“It’s just us,” Clint says, echoing Phil’s earlier words. He rubs a hand over Phil’s back. He thought this would be a fun conversation, mapping out all the things they could do together, but he also doesn’t want Phil to be uncomfortable. Or not too uncomfortable, at least.

“Sorry,” Phil says when his eyes return to Clint. “No one’s ever asked me that. Not that there have been that many guys.” Determination settles on his face. “Okay. Yes, I very much would like to fuck you. And I’d like it if you fucked me every once in a while, but if that’s not your thing, that’s fine.”

“That works for me.”

Phil smiles. “Got it. I like all the standard stuff. Handjobs. Blowjobs. I—I would like to rim you at some point if—“

“Fuck. Yes.” 

“Good, because I really enjoy that.” There’s a flush on Phil’s cheeks. 

Clint squirms at the mere thought. 

“No restraints. No pain. I don’t have much experience with toys.”

“I can help you with that.” 

Phil nods. “I’d like that. And that’s all I can think of right now.”

“It’s a good start. Sounds like we’re on the same page about the big stuff.”

“Is there anything I should know about you?”

It’s a fair question. “I like it rough sometimes, but we can talk about that more. And I like cuddles after sex.”

Phil looks delighted. “So do I.”

Clint already guessed that. “Too many guys aren’t into it, and it always makes me feel a little shitty, you know? Like, hey, you just fucked my brains out, but you can’t bear being close to me after?”

Phil kisses Clint, deep and with longing, and afterwards says, “Fuck those guys.”

Clint wraps his arms around Phil. “Cuddles forever.”

“But maybe before that…” Phil pointedly bears down in a slow drag.

“Yeah.” Clint pushes up against Phil. “D’you want to keep doing this? Just this?”

Phil nods, his eyes shining. “You feel amazing.”

“There’s lube in that shoebox if you want.” Way to accept a compliment, self. Clint really needs to work on that.

Phil reaches for it, and performs an impressive one-handed uncap-squeeze-spread maneuver that hits Clint’s competence kink hard. Not to mention that Phil’s hand on his cock feels even better than it did before, and then Phil takes both of them into his hand.

Clint closes his eyes and lets himself feel everything. All the stupid feelings he has for Phil, all the desire, all the want. He shudders with every twist of Phil’s hand, and when Phil lets go of them in favor of tucking his hands under Clint’s body to get even closer to him, Clint can only hang on for another minute before losing it.

The orgasm roars through Clint, drowning out everything else. He comes back to Phil looking at him with wonder. Wisps of hair curl around his forehead. Clint brushes them aside with a shaky hand. He can feel Phil still hard against him, and he sneaks a hand between them. At the first stroke, Phil drops his forehead to Clint’s shoulder and lifts his hips to give Clint more room.

Phil feels so good in his hand, and Clint can’t wait to learn all the ways to get him off. For now, he tries to match the rhythm with which Phil pushes against his fingers. Phil’s grasp of Clint’s bicep tightens when Clint thumbs over the head of Phil’s cock, so Clint keeps doing that until Phil’s hips stutter and he comes with a long groan.

Phil stays still, the only movement rapid puffs of breath against Clint’s skin.

“Everything alright there?”

Phil squeezes Clint’s arm. 

Eventually, he collapses against Clint’s side. Clint turns toward him, and they rest together for a while, just a tangle of limbs and breaths.

**

“Good thing no one else wants to do laundry at 8:30 on a Saturday,” Phil says as they watch the sheets start to spin around in the washer. 

“We don’t actually need to stand here, you know.” Clint is still feeling the afterglow, and all he wants is to curl up with Phil for another hour or two or three. 

“True. Back to bed?”

Clint smiles, takes Phil’s hand, and leads him back to his haven.


End file.
